Long Way from Heaven
by KristenLynn
Summary: Edward hates February 14th. When Emmett drags him to an anti-Valentine's Day party, a blast from the past might just turn Edward's least favorite day of the year into the best night of his life… AH/ExB/fun,fluff/EPOV
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Edward hates February 14th. When Emmett drags him to an anti-Valentine's Day party, a blast from the past might just turn Edward's least favorite day of the year into the best night of his life… AH/ExB/fun,fluff/EPOV

**A/N:** This is just a little bit of fluff and fun, written in the hopes of jump-starting my non-existent writing mojo… Between being sick for the better part of 8 weeks from Thanksgiving through the end of January, the craziness of the holidays, and our vacation last month, I just haven't had the time to write. Hopefully that will change now.

This story is short (7ch), complete, and should post in its entirety over the course of the day today.

Thanks to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven <strong>_

_**~ 1 ~**_

* * *

><p>Valentine's Day sucks.<p>

It's supposed to be this great _Day of Love_, but everyone knows that's a load of crap. It's really just a made-up holiday that was created solely for commercialism. Rumor has it that the greeting card companies and chocolatiers got together and conspired to create some fake holiday to boost sales.

I really don't give a shit why or how Valentine's Day came about. All I know is that I hate it.

I didn't always feel this way, but years of having bad things happen on this particular day have jaded me a bit. On Valentine's Days past, I've broken bones, failed tests, totaled cars, received college rejection letters, and even had my proposal of marriage turned down. All of this is why, at nine o'clock in the evening on Tuesday, February 14th, 2012, I'm lying on my bed, alone, and feeling rather depressed.

I don't have a date. I'm not going out for dinner. I didn't give or receive a card or gift. I didn't pass go, and I definitely didn't collect $200.

This is the one day of the year that I've learned to just ignore. It's better to pretend it doesn't exist. Lay low and play it safe. Stay in.

So why the hell I agreed to go to a party with Emmett, I'll never understand.

And speaking of my roommate… He's just sauntered into my room, and I'm struck speechless by his attire. It's… well, I don't even know what the fuck it is.

"Time to get ready!" Emmett announces cheerfully. "Party rock is definitely in the house tonight."

He catches me completely off guard when he tosses me a large shopping bag; I barely get my hands up in time to keep it from landing on a particularly vulnerable spot. I shoot him a glare, not only for his deliberately bad aim, but also because I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what that damn bag contains. I toss it back without even opening it.

"No way."

"Why not?"

I raise my eyebrow in disbelief as I take in Emmett's costume. "Do you really have to ask?"

"C'mon Edward… It's a costume party. Everyone's gonna be dressed up."

"Dressed up? Sure. Looking like a fucking pimp-slash-wannabe-rapper from the seventies? I don't think so." I shake my head. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"_We _are going as those funky LMFAO dudes."

"I don't need anyone laughing their fucking ass off at me."

He rolls his eyes. "LMFAO is a band, dude. You know, the 'Sexy and I Know It' guys?"

Even though I have no clue what the fuck he's talking about, I laugh. What else can I do? Emmett is decked out in a pair of ugly glasses, some god-awful bling, a wife beater tank with a local gym's logo, and a pair of pink-and-purple animal-print spandex biking shorts that leave very little to the imagination. Ankle socks and a pair of Vans that have seen better days complete the outfit. He's flexing his pecs and posing in a way that I can only assume is supposed to be sexy.

It's not.

"Emmett, let me assure you that there is absolutely nothing remotely sexy about…" I wave my hands in his direction. "That."

"Shut your trap. I'm _totally_ sexy and you know it. You're just jealous, bitch," he states in an affected tone that's accompanied by a hand flick and a sly wink. "You'll never be able to fill out an outfit like this." He flexes some more, then licks his finger and sticks it on his hip while making a sizzling sound before singing, "I-I-I-I-I work out!"

I snort.

"Seriously, Edward," he finally continues, "this is an _anti_-Valentine's Day party. You're not supposed to look good. That's the point—for those of us without significant others, this day sucks. It's the perfect opportunity to let loose and act stupid."

As if that statement justifies his ridiculous fucking outfit, he tosses the bag back to me. This time, I decide to take a peek. Costume components similar to the ones Emmett is wearing fill the bag—glasses, jewelry, cotton, and spandex taunt me; the shorts in this bag are neon green and royal blue. And, wait… Is that an afro wig?

No fucking way.

Acting stupid and looking stupid are two completely different things. I'm okay with the first every once in a while. Not so much with the second.

"No fucking way," I state resolutely.

He bats his eyelids at me.

"Absolutely not," I confirm.

"C'mon, Edward. Trust me... Chicks dig shit like this. Just because you don't have a significant other on V-Day doesn't mean that you can't get lucky. This," he pauses and waves his hands around his costume, "is our ticket to the bedroom." He wiggles his eyebrows at me in a lecherous manner.

I seriously doubt that claim, but that's not the point. I shoot him a pointed glare and his smile falls.

"I'm not in the mood for this tonight, Em. It's been a long day, and, as if you could ever forget…"

"I hate Valentine's Day," we chime in tandem. I sigh and he nods.

"I know, I know," he concedes. "I just hoped that you'd be willing to forget about all that shit and have fun for once."

"I'm going out with you. Isn't that enough?"

"It's a step in the right direction," he states, but disappointment laces his voice.

For a moment I feel guilty that I've been bringing down his good mood. The guilt isn't enough to change my mind, though. I don't think there's anything that could make me don the costume contained in the bag.

"Maybe Jasper will dress up with you?" I offer as a concession.

"Oh! Did he decide to come with us?"

"Yeah… He's single, bored and horny—just like you—and thought it sounded like fun. He should be here any moment—" The words aren't even out of my mouth when a pounding knock vibrates through our apartment. "That's probably him."

Emmett's smile reappears, and he reaches out to snatch the bag from my hand. "I'll get it," he enthuses as he jogs to the door, horrendous costume in hand.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! Next chapter will post shortly.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven<strong>_

**~ 2 ~**

* * *

><p>Fortunately, or maybe <em>un<em>fortunately, Jasper embraces the crazy.

Fortunately, because he saved me from having to dress up. Unfortunately, because when we leave for the club half an hour later, I am flanked by two … well… shit. I have no clue what the fuck they are, but it's bad. I can't decide which is worse: Emmett's bulky muscles highlighted by pink-and-purple leopard print, or Jasper's lanky build encased in fluorescent green-and-blue zebra stripes. Both of them look really fucking awful.

Despite Emmett's claims to the contrary, I highly suspect that they're committing social suicide. But, no matter how hard I try, they won't listen to my warnings. Instead, they've both totally immersed themselves in the wacky "sexy dudes" personas. They're strutting around as if they're the best thing since sliced bread and talking in some mutated form of English that I can't even begin to understand.

In all honesty, I'm a bit embarrassed to be seen with them.

In contrast to their outlandish attire, I am the model of normality. Or quite possibly boring, which suits me just fine; tonight of all nights, I'd rather be left alone. Embracing my inner southern frat boy, I'm dressed in my usual khakis and gray pull-over. The persona will stretch to the dance floor, where I will pretend that I don't have any rhythm. That way, I can make my escape to the bar, which is the only place I have any desire to be tonight. Emmett will probably give me shit and call me a pussy. Even though I know he's absolutely right, I just can't bring myself to be excited about anything remotely related to Valentine's Day. Unless it involves excessive amounts of alcohol.

Luckily, the cover charge to this party includes two drink tickets, so as soon as we make it into the club, we head straight for the bar. We hand over a ticket and are given a bottle of domestic beer in return. I'd really prefer to be drinking hard liquor, but at this point, I'll just take what I can get.

I down the first bottle quickly and redeem my second drink ticket. My second bottle is empty before Emmett and Jasper are even half-way through their first.

"Whoa… Slow down there, Silver," Jasper warns in an overly-emphasized Texas drawl. "You'll be done before the rodeo's even begun at that rate."

I scowl at him. "I need to be medicated to make it through this evening. Alcohol is my drug of choice."

"It's not that bad, is it?" he asks.

"Dude," Emmett mock-whispers to Jasper. "Edward hates this day, remember. Cut him some slack."

Jasper nods conspiratorially in Emmett's direction, but he winks at me. My scowl deepens.

"It's not only the day, guys. I need to completely shit-faced before I'll be able to hang with you and not question my sanity. Or my sexuality."

Emmett barks out a laugh. "Whatever, dude. You just watch. We'll be the highlight of this party." He turns to Jasper. "Since we're embarrassing Edward so horribly, what say we give him some space."

They turn in their last drink tickets and head out to the dance floor. I'll admit that I'm kind of relieved when they leave. I take a seat at the bar and signal for another beer. After it comes, I sit back to enjoy my booze and do a little people-watching.

I'm half-way through the bottle when my gaze lands on a table where three women are standing. Two are dressed just as atrociously as Emmett and Jasper. The tall blonde is all in white, complete with halo and fully-feathered angel wings, while the short, dark-haired girl is dressed in red with horns. It's not too hard to figure out what they're supposed to be: angel and devil, or possibly heaven and hell. What makes the outfits so outrageous is that they look like something from the Victoria's Secret fashion show, little more than lingerie and sheer fabric. In contrast, their friend looks as prudish as a nun in her form-fitting red mini-dress. I can't see her face, but I'm struck with a vague sense of familiarity nonetheless.

After a few minutes, the music begins to pick up. I recognize the song that Emmett was singing earlier. A few "whoop's" come from the direction of the dance floor, and I turn away from the girls to look at my friends, who just happen to be the source of all the noise. They're dancing like male strippers, thrusting their pelvises and swinging their tank tops—which they've stripped off—above their heads.

Much to my chagrin, it appears as if Emmett was indeed correct: the girls _are_ going ape-shit for their antics.

They are surrounded by women, some of whom are shoving dollar bills into their shorts. I shake my head in disbelief, but manage to raise my bottle in a silent nod of concession when Emmett catches my eye a few minutes later. He grins as the white-clad angel sidles up to him and slides her hands around his waist an into his shorts. A glance at Jazz shows red devil is now dancing in a very naughty manner with him.

The girl in the red dress is with them, and once again, I'm struck by a strange sense of familiarity. I feel like I know her somehow, although it might just be her demeanor that I can commiserate with; even from this distance, it's obvious that she feels just as uncomfortable with her friends—the two Victoria's Secret wannabe's who are now having sex on the dance floor with Emmett and Jasper—as I had with mine. When a random guy steps up behind her and attempts to dance, she pushes him away and turns to her friends. I watch as they exchange a few words, red-dress becoming even more irritated when the other two show no desire to quit dancing. She finally shrugs, then walks off the dance floor and makes her way toward the entrance of the club.

When she passes the bar, I get my first good look at her face. I smile widely and honestly for the first time tonight as I take in her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes. It's a face I know, and she's probably the only person in the world who might have the power to make me feel better this evening.

Without sparing another thought to the friends or the party I'm leaving behind, I drop my half-empty bottle on the counter and follow her out the door. She's storming down the street, so I have to jog a few steps in order to catch up with her. My smile practically breaks my cheeks as I reach out and lay my hand on her arm. Leaning in, I speak in her ear.

"Is that dress from space? 'Cause baby, your body is out of this world!"

I sense her tense up before she even whirls around. Anticipating her move, I easily step out of the way and wrap my palm around the wrist of the hand that she's raised in order to slap me. Electric awareness jolts through my entire body at the contact. Despite my surprise, I watch as her irritated scowl morphs into slack-jawed astonishment. I shoot her a cocky smile before dropping her hand.

"Hi, Bella."

For a moment, we just stare. A flush blooms on her cheeks at the heated and sustained eye contact. Her mouth works, although no sound comes out at first.

"E-Edward," she finally stammers, obviously shocked to see me. She quickly recovers. "Still using those tired old pick-up lines, I see?" she zings.

"Sure am, Bella, but only with you." I wink at her. "You're the only girl that's ever been worthy of my astounding wit."

The corner of her lip twitches and my smile widens in return. Then she shakes her head in confusion.

"But… What the hell are you doing here?"

"Here, as in the club? Or here, as in Atlanta?"

She shrugs, obviously at a loss for words. "Either. Both."

"I was at the club because my friends dragged me here. I'm in Atlanta because I'm in grad school at Emory. You?"

"Pretty much the same, only I'm at Georgia Tech."

"Wow… Small world, huh?"

"Yeah. It really is."

She's staring at me, and the way she's looking makes me feel about fifty feet tall—like she's been stranded on a desert island for years, and I'm the last bottle of water. Her eyes dart from my face to my chest and back again, obviously checking me out. Not that I mind. Hell, I'm doing the same thing.

If possible, she's even more beautiful now than she was back in high school. Her hair is shorter than I remember, and her face has thinned out a bit, but the mischievous glint in her eye is the same as always. As is her clumsy streak; for no obvious reason, she suddenly stumbles and falls. A small _oomph_ escapes her lips when her backside hits the pavement.

I quickly offer her a hand. And a smirk. "I know I'm hot and that we have a history, but Bella, I really didn't expect you to fall for me this quickly."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but she's smiling as she grabs my hand and allows me to pull her to her feet. She groans.

"Did that hurt?" I ask.

"Not really. Why?"

"Well, you fell a long way."

"Huh?"

"You know… from Heaven?"

She snorts. "That was bad, Cullen. _Really_ bad."

I decide to try a different angle. Fanning the air with my hand, I ask, "Wow… Is it hot out here, or is it just you?"

This time, she laughs. The happy sound is accompanied by a slight flush on her cheeks. "Well, since it's only about forty degrees out, it must be just me."

The smile on my lips spreads to my insides, warming a part of me that's been frozen for years.

"So, Bella… How've you been?"

We spend twenty minutes exchanging all the necessary information about our families, our mutual friends from high school and ourselves. My parents have moved for the second time since I graduated high school and are now living in New York; her father is still the Chief of police in Forks. We both went to undergrad in Washington, although she spent two years at the community college in Port Angeles before transferring to Washington State. It took her an extra year. I graduated from U-dub in four years. We both moved here for graduate school, though I came out a year before she did. We're both working on doctoral degrees—Bella in computer science, me in physical therapy.

A glance at my watch shows that it's just after eleven. Technically—at least when it comes to clubbing—it's still early. But I wasn't lying to Emmett earlier; for me, it really has been a long day. I had a test this morning, then spent all afternoon in the prosthetic clinic for children. The work is rewarding, but in many ways draining. Before I can stop myself, I'm stifling a yawn.

"You're tired," she states.

"Long day."

"Know the feeling. I should head home…"

"Did you drive?"

"Yeah."

"Where'd you park? I'll walk you. Protect you from any other guys who might try to win you over with bad pick-up lines."

She smiles at me. "Thanks. What about you? Where's your car?"

"I didn't drive. I came with the idiots your friends were dancing with."

"Do you want me to give you a ride?"

The smirk is back. "Angel… you can give me a ride any time you'd like."

She groans.

"Hey… you set me up," I laugh. "I couldn't pass up that golden opportunity. Sorry. Had to do it."

"I know, I know…"

"It'd be a good ride, too, I promise," I continue, waggling my eyebrows. "All those curves, and me with no brakes."

"Can it, Cullen," she grits out, but I can tell she's trying hard not to laugh.

My laugher bubbles up from deep within. I haven't laughed in a long time. It feels really, really good. She makes me feel really good. I nudge her shoulder with my own.

"It's really good to see you again, Bella."

"You, too, Edward. You, too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So… the idea for the 'costumes' and the dance club was inspired by a real-life event in my past. At Halloween a few years back, my brother came to visit me. We were going to a club that night, and I was dressing up. He decided that he wanted to dress up, too, but didn't have a costume. Long story short, I dressed him in some of my old clothes, gave him fake (balloon) boobs and full make up. The girls went ape-shit over him! My boyfriend (now-hubs) and his friends were dressed in all their southern frat boy glory—ie, not dressed up at all—and they got no attention from any girl. My brother got three phone numbers. LOL

Have you seen the "Sexy and I Know It" video yet? It's soooo bad. Go watch it, and then imagine Emmett and Jasper as those two crazy dudes. Bwahaha!

Thanks for reading!

See you soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven <strong>_

**~ 3 ~**

* * *

><p>"So… What's with the dress?"<p>

She's wearing an interesting dress. It's one of those strapless things with a really short skirt. Red. It makes her legs look great, and if I stand at just the right angle, I can catch a glimpse of her lacy black strapless bra. But what makes it unique is that it's covered in safety pins. I've been staring at it for almost an hour now, and I can't quite figure it out.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you supposed to be? It is a costume of some sort, right?"

"Nope. It's just a dress."

I frown for a moment. "It's covered in safety pins. Is there a reason for that?"

"I don't really know. It came like this, and I just liked it." She shrugs. Then she states cryptically, "But, knowing me, they'll probably come in handy."

"How so?"

"At least I'll be able to patch myself back up when Valentine's Day strikes again, as it inevitably will." She looks at her watch. "There's still an hour left in the day; that's more than enough time."

"Ah…" I nod my head in understanding.

She cocks her head to the side and quirks her brow in question.

"Let's just say that I know what you're talking about."

A frown crinkles the corners of her lips and eyes. "You, too, huh?"

"Yup," I state.

"I _hate_ Valentine's Day," we both say at the exact same time. For a moment, we just look at each other in astonishment, then we both bust out laughing.

"Well, glad to know that I'm not alone," I finally manage to say. "It's kind of lonely, you know, being that one person in your group of friends who hates Valentine's Day. Or maybe more appropriately, being the one person who Valentine's Day really just seems to hate."

"Tell me about it," she commiserates.

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. Me and Valentine's Day? We have a toxic relationship."

"How so?"

"Well... You remember that my parents are divorced, right?"

"Sure."

"Guess what day they split up?"

I snort.

"Yeah. I was ten. We'd all gone out for a family dinner together, and when we got home, they sat me down and told me that mom was leaving, moving to Arizona. I had to choose between my parents that day. It sucked."

"I'd imagine so."

"This is probably more info than you want to know, but when I was twelve, mother nature came calling for the first time on Valentine's Day. Only I didn't realize it until the end of the school day. They called me 'Bloody Bella' for the rest of the school year."

"That's terrible."

"That's sixth grade."

There really isn't anything else I can really say, so I encourage her to continue. "What else?"

"In eleventh grade, I had a date with Mike Newton for Valentine's Day."

"Wait… Newton?" I interject. I'm a bit surprised because Mike Newton was a jerk in high school, and by the time I moved to Forks at the beginning of senior year, their dislike of one another was apparent. "I thought you guys hated each other."

"Not until _after_Valentine's Day Junior year."

"Uh oh…"

"Yeah… I had a crush on him for years, starting in the eighth grade, and he knew it. At the time, I thought he was perfect; he was cute, smart, played sports and was really popular. It was my dream-come-true when he asked me out. Valentine's Day was our first date, and for a while, I had a great time. I didn't learn until after dinner that he'd made a bet with some friends that he could get me in bed by the end of the night. He wasn't happy when he lost that bet."

I just look at her in horror.

"Of course, I got the last laugh."

"How so?"

"Well… I had to take a cab, because he refused to drive me, so I had to tell my dad why my date didn't bring me home. Since he's the police chief, Charlie has some pull. He got one of the sheriffs to 'arrest' Mike for sexual harassment the next day. It was pretty funny. Mike pissed his pants. He hated me after that, of course, but it was totally worth it."

I laugh, hard. I can totally see that douchebag shitting bricks over something like that. "Oh, that's great! How come I never heard that story before?"

"Well… it wasn't common knowledge. I never told anyone what happened. Having the knowledge was more than enough for me."

We arrive at her car—a late-model Honda Accord—and she takes a moment to unlock the doors and get in. I fold myself into the passenger seat just as she turns the key and starts the engine.

"Whatever happened to your old truck?"

"You remember my old Chevy?"

"I don't think anyone could ever forget that piece of shit, Bella. It backfired every time you turned it on."

"Don't remind me."

"But you've moved up in the world, I see."

"Yup." She pats the dashboard of her car reverently. "I got really lucky with this one. Three years old and only 25,000 miles when I bought it. My first 'big' purchase."

"Not on Valentine's Day, I take it?"

"No. Definitely not." She laughs. "It was actually Labor Day. Two years ago, right after I moved here."

I nod.

"So, what about you?" she asks. "I told you about some of my bad experiences. What happened to make _you_ hate the international day of love?"

"Where to start?"

"At the beginning?"

"Good one, Swan. Well, let's see… There was the year that I got hit in the face with the basketball during gym class. It wouldn't have been overly bad if I hadn't worn glasses at the time—I got two black eyes and broke my nose. Then in the ninth grade, I failed two tests, and the school called my parents with deficiency notices. They had to meet with the principal, and the meeting went so long, they missed their dinner reservations. They weren't happy with me."

"But you were a great student."

I nod in agreement. "For the most part, I was. But my family moved a lot when I was a kid. Hell… I guess they still do. In that instance, I'd just started at a new school. I was fourteen, and I didn't handle that move very well. So I rebelled a bit by not studying. I turned it around when my parents grounded me until I pulled my grades up.

"Junior year, I wrecked my car on the way home from school. Wasn't my fault—some guy ran a red light and broadsided me—but still..." I shrug. "Senior year, I got three college rejection letters on Valentine's Day. I wasn't too concerned, because they were all schools that my father wanted me to apply to—Harvard, Dartmouth, and Columbia—but his disappointment still made me feel bad. And…" I slide my eyes to the side to take her in. "That was also the year that a very beautiful girl turned me down for a Valentine's Day date."

Her head jerks in my direction and she shoots me a frown. "You were joking, Edward."

I cock my head in response. "Was I?"

"You know you were," she huffs. "And after my experience with Mike… Well, I didn't want to go down that road again."

At least it now makes sense why she said "no" so quickly all those years ago. I sigh, then reach up to scratch the back of my head. I leave my hand resting on my neck.

"What?" she asks.

"I wasn't joking, Bella."

"_What_!"

This time, I huff. Then I pull my hand from my neck to pinch at the bridge of my nose. "I had a crush on you back then."

She laughs, a short, barking sound. "Yeah, right."

I scowl. "I did."

"But… We never really talked, Edward. You just spouted those stupid pick-up lines at me, then laughed about it with your friends. It really pissed me off."

"Well, um… About that… You were really cute when you got all riled up."

She gapes at me. "Oh, my god. Teenage boys are so stupid."

"Yes, they are."

"Moving on…"

"Good call. So, any other Valentine's Day horrors?" I ask, desperately wanting to return to the previously humorous overtones. I'm also desperate to have the attention drawn away from myself.

There's a moment of slightly awkward silence, then her voice speaks softly. "Yeah. There's one more. Junior year in college… I'd been dating my boyfriend for two years at the time, and I bought tickets to a motocross show for Valentine's Day—he was into motorcycles and stuff. He broke up with me at dinner afterwards. Told me he'd met someone else in one of his classes a few weeks earlier. I think he only held on that long because he knew I had those freaking tickets."

"That's rough," I commiserate. Then I sigh. "But I might have you beat on that one."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I proposed. She turned me down."

"Yikes. Yeah, that is bad. What happened?"

"I played baseball in college. For three years. If you recall from high school, I pitched. I dealt with some medical issues my senior year. I kept hoping that I'd be cleared to play again, but the doctors told me on Valentine's Day that I'd never pitch again. I didn't realize that my girlfriend was only dating me in the hopes that I'd make it to the big leagues. I proposed that night. After I told her that I'd never be able to play baseball again. Needless to say, she didn't accept."

I shrug. Bella looks shocked.

"Oh, Edward. That's terrible."

"Well, it was better to learn the truth before I got married, right?"

"Yeah."

We come to the end of this maudlin conversation when she pulls into the parking lot of my apartment complex. I take a moment to direct her toward our building. There's an empty spot right out front and she pulls into it.

"Well, this is me," I state, just to say something.

I make no effort to get out of her car. Now that I'm home, I find that I'm not quite ready for the evening to end. For the first time in a very long time, Valentine's Day hasn't been a disaster. Not to mention, it's really nice to run into an old friend. An old friend with whom I have a surprising amount in common. Not to mention, an old friend who I just happened to have a major crush on back in high school.

The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I was thinking them.

"You wanna come up?"

Her answer is just as quick.

"Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Any horrible Valentine's Day stories? I guess I've gotten lucky; I have no stories like Bella's or Edward's.

I bought my Honda Accord 13 years ago. It was three years old at the time, and had 25,000 miles on it. My first big purchase. It was a great deal then on what is still a great car now. 178,000 miles and counting…

And really… teenage boys ARE incredibly stupid.

LOL

Thanks for reading!

Back in a few…


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven <strong>_

**~ 4 ~**

* * *

><p>A moment later, I usher her through our front door. Luckily, the apartment isn't overly messy. A quick glance reveals nothing incriminating in the den; thankfully Emmett keeps his massive porn collection—both magazines and movies—in his own room.<p>

"Have a seat. You want something to drink? Water? Coke? Beer?"

"A beer would be great."

"A girl after my own heart," I call over my shoulder as I walk down the hall.

"Oh, really? And why might that be?"

Pausing at the door, I turn back to face her. "Because the more I drink, the prettier you get!" I say with an audacious wink.

She laughs, her cheeks flushing pink with amusement. "Good one."

"I know, right?" I call as I duck into the kitchen.

I can hear her moving around in the other room; the sounds are surprisingly reassuring. We've only been inside for a few minutes, but it already seems like Bella has always been here. It's comfortable, easy. I grab two bottles of beer and a bag of chips, then head back into the den. She's already made herself at home; the TV is on and she's flipping through the channels. She pauses on one of the movie networks and turns to look at me.

"Oh! _Valentine's Day_. I know it's a bad movie, but it's still kinda cute, and I like it. Besides, it's fitting, don't you think?"

I shrug.

"Can we watch it?" she asks eagerly.

I don't really want to watch a cheesy chick-flick, but if it will keep Bella here longer…

"Sure."

We settle in for the movie. It's as bad as I feared… one of those mega-star, ensemble-cast movies with multiple storylines going on all at the same time. I like Ashton Kutcher, and Jessica Biel is always easy on the eyes, but the high school story line is really fucking annoying. Especially the blonde girl and her overly buff boyfriend, who Bella claims looks a lot like her ex. I have to roll my eyes at the cheesiness. In fact, it's so over the top, I decide to tune it out and close my eyes for just a moment.

Next thing I know, she's calling my name.

"Edward?"

"Hmm…"

My shoulder bounces slightly when she places her palm there and shakes.

"Yeah," I mumble.

"I should go…"

"What? No! Don't go."

"You're tired, Edward. I should let you get some sleep."

Faced with the thought that she might leave, I'm suddenly wide awake. "No, I'm fine. What'd I miss?" I ask as I rub my eyes and try to refocus on the TV. Credits are scrolling on a black screen, which causes me to frown.

She laughs. "Pretty much the whole movie."

I have to admit that I'm a bit dumbfounded. I fell asleep? When the girl of my horny, inner-teen dreams was sitting on the couch next to me? It appalls me to realize that I'm losing my touch when it comes to the opposite sex. I guess I need to get out a bit more.

"I'm so sorry, Bella."

She smiles. "It's okay. This is nothing," she states, hands circling in the direction of my prone body, smile widening. "I've had far worse things happen on Valentine's Day than my date falling asleep on me. Besides, you're kinda cute when you're asleep. You talk."

For the time being, I ignore her reference to the fact that I talk in my sleep. I'm not sure I really want to know what I said, anyway. I just hope it wasn't about her, especially since Bella has played the feature role in many a wet dream over the years. Instead, I focus on the other thing she said.

"So… This is a date now?" I tease.

Her eyes widen and her mouth pops open as my words sink in. A becoming flush tinges her cheeks and her head drops. "Um… Well… Maybe?"

Her hair slides forward, shielding her face from me, and I'm surprised by how vehemently I dislike not being able to see her expressions. With a small chuckle, I sit up and reach out to brush her hair behind her ear. Then I tilt her chin so that I can look into her eyes. When she finally raises them, I smile. It's a real smile, one I haven't used in quite some time.

"I'm just giving you a hard time," I soothe, dropping my hand to her shoulder so that I can maintain some sort of contact. There's a weird connection pulsing between us, and I'm not quite ready to relinquish it yet. "Seriously though, I want you to know that this has been one of the nicest Valentine's Days that I've ever had. Of course, I fell asleep for part of it…" My words trail off, and I hang my head playfully as if in shame, which elicits a tinkling laugh, just as I intended. "But for the first time in years, nothing bad happened."

"Um… are you forgetting about your friends?" She asks. "I'd say that was pretty bad."

"True, true," I agree.

We laugh together, then fall into a slightly awkward period of silence. My hand is still resting on her shoulder, and the heat of her skin burns my palm, almost as if she is branding me. Above the deep throb of my heart, which has blood pulsing through every inch of my body, I can hear her breathing. Her short, choppy breaths sound a lot like my own. I've never felt like this before—this… consumed… by someone else. It's a bit unsettling.

"But it's over now?" I ask quietly, seriously.

Her eyes widen, as if startled, and she sucks in a shaky breath. "What? The movie? The date?"

"No," I assure, squeezing her shoulder gently and urging her a bit closer on the couch. "The day. February 14th. You know… Valentine's Day."

"Oh!" she replies in a soft, almost breathless voice as she allows me to pull her closer and closer. "Yeah. It's definitely over."

I nod my head. "Good."

She smiles in reply. "I guess we survived, huh?"

"Yeah."

My ability to compose an intelligent reply fades the closer she gets. All I see is silky hair, liquid brown eyes, rosy lips parted as if in expectation. Her hands have fisted in my shirt, and the tip of one finger burns my chest where it's slipped inside. That digit rubs gently, bringing a cocky smile to my face.

"Bella?"

Her breathing is ragged, her eyes glazed. "Yeah?"

"How's it feel to be the most beautiful girl in the room?"

She rolls her eyes slightly, but a lovely smile emerges on her lips. "Edward, I'm the _only_girl in the room."

I can't help it. I laugh. Suddenly we're back on familiar territory. Yet somehow, it all feels new and different. Exciting. And possibly like we're on the brink of something special.

"You're still beautiful," I state resolutely.

The smile widens. "Really?"

I nod.

"I'll bet you twenty dollars that I can kiss you without using my lips…" I state, wiggling my brow in a lewd manner and managing to inject some of the cockiness of old. She immediately catches on to my game.

"Oh, really?" she asks, batting her eyelids.

"Yup."

"Okay… I'll take that bet. Bring it on. Give it your best shot. "

With a smile, I lean in and brush her cheek with my nose. Smooth skin caresses me as I nuzzle my way to her ear. She exhales in a shaky laugh. When I brush against the curve of her jaw, the laugh turns into a sigh. Lifting my head, I plant my mouth on hers. Her lips are soft, and they part in surprise. For a moment I taste heaven. Then she pulls back and spears me with twinkling eyes.

"Hey! You cheated!" she states, while jabbing me with a finger.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You just used your lips."

I smirk at her. "I didn't cheat, Bella. I lost."

Her mouth pops open in surprise, then snaps shut before a giggle erupts.

"Oh, my god," she states dramatically. "I can't believe I fell for that one."

"Me, neither," I laugh. "Wanna try it again?"

"Yes, please. But this time, it's my turn."

"For what?"

She arches a brow and cocks her finger at me. I immediately lean into her, which causes her to laugh uproariously. I quirk an eyebrow in question, eliciting one last snort before her expression turns serious. She leans forward until her lips are next to my ear.

"I got you to come with just _one_ finger," she whispers seductively. "Imagine what I could do if I used _all_ of them…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** What's the cheesiest pick up line that you've heard?

_**Valentine's Day**_ is a 2010 American romantic comedy film directed by Garry Marshall (from Wikipedia).

Ironically, I wrote that scene on Saturday night, and when I got up Sunday morning, guess what was on TV? Yup. Our favorite mega-star, ensemble-cast movie. LOL And, strangely enough, it actually _will_ be on HBO today, just not late at night. Go check it out if you haven't seen it yet. I love how all the story lines tie together somehow, but I wasn't lying: Taylor and Taylor really are quite annoying.

Thanks for reading.

Next chapter in a little while…


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven<strong>_

**~ 5 ~**

* * *

><p>"<em>I got you to come with just one finger," she whispers seductively. "Imagine what I could do if I used all of them…"<em>

For a moment, I'm stunned into inaction because my mind has just gone exactly where that pick-up line intended it to go. I swallow in an attempt to cure my suddenly parched throat. My eyes drift shut. I can see—and _feel_—it all so clearly: her fingers drifting down my chest and stomach, then wrapping around my…

Every part of my body clenches—my jaw, my fists, and most especially my cock. I take a stuttering breath as I struggle for control.

"Damn, Bella," I groan. "You can't say shit like that to a guy. Not unless you mean it."

Her warm breath caresses my ear. "Who said I didn't?"

When I open my eyes, she's pulled back just enough for me to see her face. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted slightly as she struggles to breathe. My gaze drifts down; her chest rises and falls rapidly, pushing the dress against the swell of her breast. I raise a hand and trace the edge of silk and lace, brushing her tender skin in the process. Her breath catches, then releases in a short huff.

I meet her gaze again, and I'm immediately lost in the sea of longing I encounter there. It's intense, like nothing I've ever experienced before. The tips of my fingers burn where they contact her skin, but it comes nowhere close to the fire that has suddenly ignited within me. I need to know that she wants this just as badly as I do. Despite all of the silly flirting and overtly sexual insinuations, and the fact that everything this evening has been leading to this one moment, I still need for her to make the first move. I don't want to do anything wrong. Not after all this time. And not with Bella of all people. I need to give her an out…

Cursing my gentlemanly instincts, I pull back slightly and spout yet another cheesy pick-up line.

"Why don't you come sit on my lap? We can talk about the first thing that pops up?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Edward."

My hand slides upward into warm strands of silk, and with a low groan, I pull her face to mine. There is no more laughing or teasing, no more holding back. Our mouths finally meet, and the result is explosive. Her lips part on a low moan, and I take advantage. This time, I taste her fully, my tongue stroking hers greedily, taking all that I can. Cradling the back of her head, I urge her closer.

I fall backward on the couch, taking her with me. She clambers onto my lap and pushes her own hands into my hair. This time I groan when she tugs slightly, tipping my head back for better access. Her warm breath whispers across my lips, then my jaw and down my neck as she works her way down to tease my collarbone with gentle nips. Another groan escapes when her tongue darts beneath the collar of my shirt.

My hands drop to her thighs and slip beneath the hem of her skirt. She moans in appreciation. With slow, gentle circles, my hand pushes forward until the tip of my thumb brushes lace. I pause for a moment, then slide my thumb down, tracing lightly against the edge of that frilly barrier. When I reach the seam, she moans slightly and bucks her hips forward into my touch. It's damp, and even through the fabric, I can feel her heat.

"Ah, fuck," I groan softly.

It's the sweetest temptation, and I want more. So much more. Unable to stop myself, I let the tip of my thumb edge beneath the elastic. Her breath catches.

"Is this okay?" I ask.

I feel her nod against my chest.

"Please… can I touch you?" I beg.

She grabs my hand and shoves it under the barrier of lace, into the waiting wetness. My thumb glides easily against hot, slick skin. She feels like heaven, and my entire body responds—my stomach clenches, my fingers curl unconsciously, and my cock stiffens even further. I hiss lightly. I want nothing more than to dive right in and push all her buttons, to watch her fall apart right now. But I also want this to last. So I pull back slightly and run my thumb up and down the smooth-shaven, swollen skin of her lips.

My touch is purposeful, stroking both sensually and insistently, but it's not where she wants me to touch. I can tell by the small huffs she makes each time I reach the top of my upstroke and turn around without sliding in to touch her clit. She's also started moving with my strokes, her hips tilting to make my strokes longer and moving slowly side-so-side in an attempt to force my finger further into her wetness.

After a few teasing moments, her legs are shaking lightly and her breaths are coming in ragged pants and groans that match the motions of my fingers. She's pushed herself upright and planted her hands on either side of my head on the back of the couch for balance as she thrusts against me. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her head is tossed back. Leaning forward, I brush my lips against the curve of her exposed throat, nipping gently at the same time as I finally slide my thumb between her lips.

"Yes," she moans.

"Damn, Bella," I groan against her neck. "You feel so fucking good."

With long, slow strokes, I capture her wetness and spread it around. She thrusts her hips against my hand, trying to increase the pressure. With each of her downward thrusts, she brushes lightly against my cock. After three or four thrusts, I can't take it any longer; burying my head in her neck, I push my hips into hers in concert with the upstroke of my thumb. She gasps at the contact, grinding harder against me as my thumb finally brushes her clit.

"Shit," she gasps as she presses against me.

We both repeat our motions. My cock grinds against her center while my thumb rhythmically strokes her sensitive clit. I groan lightly. Her breath hisses in time to each thrust.

I kiss my way down her neck, across her collarbone, and the warm, flushed skin of her chest. Raising my free hand, I tug at the top of her dress. I dip my hand inside the fabric to tease the swell of her breast. Lips follow fingers, suckling at the soft skin. A low moan rumbles in her chest, and frantic fingers slide into my hair to cradle me against her chest.

It only takes a slight dip of my head to reach her nipple. I suck the small bud between my lips and swirl my tongue around the tip. The action of my mouth mirrors the motion of my thumb, and she gasps in response. After only two simultaneous strokes, her legs clamp against my thighs and her body begins to shake with the intensity of her orgasm.

"_Yes_, _yes, yes_…"

A moment later, she slumps to my chest, her breaths coming in panting gasps. I pull my hand from between her legs and wrap my arm loosely around her waist. Leaning down, I brush my lips gently across her forehead.

"Was that good, Angel?"

"Oh, my god…"

She sits, unmoving, for several minutes as she catches her breath. Then she tilts her head in order to kiss my neck. Her fingers finally release my hair and fall to my chest, where she starts drawing abstract designs. They inch their way across my chest until they settle on one of my nipples. Her nails are short, but still long enough to catch the nub. I jerk when she flicks it gently.

I'm so focused on the fingers of her left hand, which are now drawing circles around my nipple, that I don't even notice what her other hand is doing until it slips beneath the hem of my shirt and scratches lightly along my stomach. My breath catches when she pauses at the fly of my pants, then pops the button and lowers the zipper. Her fingers brush my erection in the process, causing me to hiss in response. It morphs into a groan when she slips her hand inside my boxers and wraps her fingers around my throbbing cock.

"I take it you're happy to see me…"

She pumps her hand slowly, eliciting another desperate moan from me. It's been less than ten seconds, and the pressure is already building, pooling deep in my abdomen and shooting out in spirals of sensation that reach each and every extremity. My fingers tingle with awareness as they tangle in her hair. My toes curl in anticipation when her hand squeezes gently on the next upstroke, her finger pressing slightly against the ridge when she gets to the top.

"Ah, fuck, Angel. That feels good," I groan as her hand twists before sliding back down my shaft.

I thrust my hips with her next stroke, loving the feel of her fingers.

"I bet I can make you feel better," she states before she wiggles her way down my body so that her knees are resting on the floor between my legs.

My eyes are heavy-lidded as I watch her peel back my fly. I lift my hips so she can lower my pants and boxers. She pulls my cock out, and it comes to rest on my stomach with a dull thud. Leaning down, she runs her tongue from base to tip. I groan.

"You don't have to do this, Bella."

She licks again as if in response, then wets her palm and wraps her fingers around my shaft.

"It's okay, Edward. I want to know how you taste."

Her words cause me to groan again.

"You _really_ shouldn't say things like that unless—"

My eyes squeeze shut and my back arches off the couch as her lips finally close around the tip of my cock. She doesn't take me all the way in, but she doesn't have to. Her hand is squeezing the base while her lips and tongue tease the head. She begins moving, twisting her hand as her head bobs up and down slowly. Her tongue is pressed against the underside, providing the perfect amount of pressure at just the right points.

The fingers that are still tangled in her hair tug gently. She lifts her head slightly so that her eyes can meet mine.

"I'm gonna cum, Angel."

She smiles and raises up just enough for me to pop out of her mouth. The cool air in the room that now blows across my wet, exposed flesh provides one more level of sensation. Her eyes flash triumphantly.

"Good. I don't want to waste this…"

She purses her lips and slides them over the head of my cock. I watch as my shaft disappears into her mouth. It's one of the most erotic things I've ever seen. She slowly takes me all the way in, then begins pumping in earnest, tongue laving, hand twisting, mouth sucking.

The pressure in my abdomen builds with each stroke until I'm teetering on the edge of sanity. Then it explodes, and I groan at the intensity of my release. It goes on and on, her mouth and hand working to milk me dry.

When it's over, I feel completely boneless. Spent.

"Holy shit," I mutter.

Her fingers trace small circles over my hipbones. "Good?" she asks.

"Hmm…" I hum in satisfaction.

"Cat got your tongue, Edward?" She laughs softly.

I smile, even though I know she can't see it. "In case you missed it, Angel, that was most definitely _not_ my tongue. But yeah. You got it good."

"Just making sure."

My fingers work in her hair, stroking gently.

"The best, Angel. Simply the best."

"Good." A momentary pause, then, "But just to make sure, you know I'm not a Toyota, right?"

"No way… You're definitely luxury. And you just gave me the best ride of my life."

She laughs. "Great. But Edward?"

"Hmmm…"

"Can we cut it with the innuendos and clichés now?"

"Sure thing, Angel. Besides, I don't have enough energy to think of any more tonight."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So… this was my first attempt at full-blown citrus in a _**long**_ time. I used to love writing the dirty stuff, but I've really gotten away for it in the past year, so this was a bit harder than I anticipated. Thanks to all for the help on Twitter with cheesy, clichéd sayings surrounding a blow job (Jolanda—this one's for you!).

FYI: when I was in college I was in a Toyota commercial. The slogan at the time was "Simply the Best". That part just kinda happened when I saw the wording. LOL

Thanks for reading.

See you in a few…


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven <strong>_

**~ 6 ~**

* * *

><p>I wake suddenly when Emmett rolls in and the front door slams shut. The lights come on and burn my eyes, causing me to blink and throw up a hand in order to ward off the offensive brightness. When the pain recedes and I'm finally able to focus, a glance at the clock reveals that it's after 4:00 am.<p>

It takes me a moment longer to realize that Bella is gone.

A low groan rumbles through my chest.

"Dude!" Emmett exclaims, startled by my pained sound. The lights flick out again. "Sorry. Didn't realize you'd still be up," he apologizes as he walks into the room. "Man… What an awesome night. I told you those costumes would be our ticket to heaven. Too bad you didn't believe me; Jasper and I got really lucky. And man, those chicks were smokin' hot!"

He flops down on the couch with a satisfied grin.

"You should've stuck around…" His head lolls to the side in order to look at me, and his eyes widen as he finally takes me in. He sits up a little straighter. "What the fuck happened to you?"

It suddenly dawns on me that I'm still sprawled on the couch half-naked. I look down and am relieved to find that my boxers are back in place. I yank my pants up and tug my shirt down. In my haste to re-dress myself, I knock a hand towel to the floor. When I notice it, I frown; I don't remember using it. Did Bella use it? I don't remember that, either. In fact, I don't remember a single fucking thing beyond the most spectacular blow job of my life.

Did I fall asleep again? It appears that I must have.

Emmett's short, barking laugh startles me from my musings. When I glance back at him, there's a look of half-resignation, half-horror on his face. He scrambles to his feet and away from the couch as if it's contagious.

"Oh fuck. You choked the chicken on my couch tonight, didn't you?" he accuses.

I glare at him. "No."

His eyebrow quirks in disbelief as he eyes the towel. "Well then, what the fuck happened here?"

I shrug, for some reason hesitant to reveal what really happened. "Let's just say it was a strange evening."

"Ooh… Did you go find some strange tonight after you left the club?" He wiggles his brows suggestively.

"Of course not," I snap. Bella can by no means be considered strange—she's definitely not a stranger, and we didn't technically have sex. Not that I'd tell him, even if we had. What we shared was private. And special. I don't want Emmett tarnishing it.

Emmett frowns as if in disappointment. "Whatever, dude," he dismisses as he turns to leave the room. "I'm going to bed. Be sure to clean up after yourself. I don't want any of your stains on my couch."

I shoot him the bird, not that he sees it.

Once Emmett leaves, I drag myself from the couch and take a brief look around. Other than the towel, nothing is out of place; Bella hasn't left a single shred of evidence to suggest that she was ever here. I finally head to my own bedroom, but I know that I won't go back to sleep. Not now. Although I was exhausted just a few minutes before, I'm now wide awake.

After stripping off my clothes, I lie down, but my mind won't rest. Instead, it replays each and every moment that I spent with Bella. It's like a video on a continuous loop, and for the next several hours I relive those moments over and over. I grow hard again as I remember the sight, smell, taste and feel of her. My fingers twitch with the need to touch her again, to bring her more pleasure. Instead, I wrap my palm around my throbbing cock and stroke slowly.

I jack myself off to recalled images of Bella sitting above me, moaning softly. With my eyes clenched shut, I can pretend that it's her warm mouth sliding up and down the length of my cock rather than my own hand.

It doesn't take long.

Unfortunately, the satisfaction brought on by my release is only temporary. After it fades, I'm left feeling nothing but disappointment, much like I had when I woke to find Bella gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Anyone have an embarrassing moment when you either walked in on your roommate or vice versa? Or, a one-night stand that ended similarly to this?

I do have to say something in Edward's defense here. Sorry if it's TMI, but my hubs has a habit of falling asleep after a good (if I must say so myself) BJ. So... not outside the realm of possibility. LOL

Thank you guys so much for reading! There's only one chapter left to go in this silly little holiday tale. Unfortunately for you all, I now have to head out for my own Valentine's Day date with my hubs (dinner and a hockey game), so you're gonna have to wait a bit. Anticipation's a bitch, isn't it? LOL

I'll post the final chapter as soon as I get home tonight—I promise not to leave you hanging the way that Bella just left Edward...

:)

See you in a little while...


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Okay guys... This is it! I had a blast researching cheesy pick-up lines and trying to use some of the best ones I found in this story. Hope that you all have enjoyed.

It was a good night for me... We beat the Blackhawks 3-2. Now… let's see if Edward can score a win of his own with Bella...

Thanks once more to **tiffanyanne3FF** and **areao** for the beta help. **Tkegl** made the awesome banner.

Happy Valentine's Day!

KL

* * *

><p><em><strong>Long Way from Heaven<strong>_

**~ 7 ~**

* * *

><p>Wednesday is a long day that just seems to drag on and on. I fall asleep in my morning lecture, although I'm really not that surprised, considering I got less than two hours of sleep the night before. Between my seminars, I perform a quick internet search, but I don't find much. Bella isn't listed in the white pages, although that's almost expected in this day and age. No one has a land-line anymore; they just use cell phones. I do find her Facebook page, but the privacy setting is 'friends only', and I don't want to seem like a creepy stalker by friending her after only one night. Besides, she didn't leave any indication that she wanted to see me again…<p>

I'm also completely useless at work. My supervisor finally pulls me aside and asks if everything is alright. Although I claim that I'm fine, he still sends me home; I need to be fully functional to work with the children.

Valentine's Day strikes, yet again.

For the first time in… forever… the day didn't suck. I had a great time with Bella. Correction: a phenomenal time. It was the best Valentine's Day I could remember, concluding with a smoking-hot make-out session. It really seemed like I finally escaped my Valentine's Day curse.

Then she just disappeared.

The more I think about it, the more upset I get, which is kind of crazy. It was just one night. I shouldn't treat this like a relationship. It's not. But I want to talk to her, to see her again, and I can't because I have no fucking clue where she is.

By the time I get home, my frustration has morphed into anger. It's irrational and immature, I know, but I can't help my feelings. Slamming my car door, I grab my backpack and stomp toward the building. When I reach the top of the stairs, my heart stops—Bella is sitting on the ground outside my apartment door. She jumps up immediately as soon as she spots me, a contrite expression on her face.

"Edward—" she starts.

I cut her off. "Are you lost?" I ask harshly. Too harshly. My irrational ire has been stoked, and I need to take it out on someone.

"What? No, of course not," she hurries to assure. "Edward, why would you—"

"You're a long way from Heaven, Angel."

My angry glare pins her in place. The words are a purposefully cruel bastardization of our previously stimulating and sensual games, and I watch as a series of naked, raw emotion swims across her face—anger, hurt, disappointment, followed closely by determination and… hope? She reaches out to touch me, and I can't help but drop my gaze to where her hand lays on my arm. Even now, with all the rage roiling deep inside me, her touch burns in the most exhilarating way. I'm about to jerk away when her softly spoken words halt every motion.

"No, I'm not…"

My gaze shoots back to hers. The look on her face is sincere, pleading almost, and I want to believe what she's telling me. But her previous actions speak louder than her current words.

"But why…"

My voice trails off, and my hand burrows its way into the hair on the back of my head. I take a cleansing breath, then spear her with unwavering scrutiny.

"You left, Bella. After everything we shared last night, you left without a word. No note or even a fucking phone number. You left nothing! Except the impression that our time together was nothing more than a one-night stand. On Valentine's Day of all days," I bark. I look away and tug on my hair once more. When I speak again, I soften my voice. And my demeanor. Here's the real truth: "I just figured that you regretted what happened."

"No!" she cries. "I don't regret it at all. I promise. I just needed some time to think." She pauses and sighs, then looks to me with wounded eyes. "After everything we talked about last night, I figured you of all people would understand."

"Well, I didn't." My arms settle defensively across my chest. "I woke up, and you were just… gone. What the hell was I supposed to think?"

Her eyes drift shut, and she takes a deep breath. "I've only had one serious relationship my entire life, Edward, so I'm not very good at this. I haven't dated much since then, and I've never done _anything_ like what I did with you last night—I don't sleep around, and I've never gotten naked with a guy on a first date. That's not me. But with you…" She glances down at her fingers, which are now twisted together and white with tension. "With you it was different," she practically whispers. The she looks back to my face. Her eyes plead with me. "I wasn't expecting that. Not on Valentine's Day. It was more than my brain could handle at the time. So, I'm sorry. I was a bit overwhelmed and I ran. But I never intended for you to think that it was a one-off. I always intended to come back…"

Her impassioned response causes me to smile slightly. She's gotten all worked up in the telling of it; her cheeks are flushed—I suspect that she's embarrassed by all that she's just admitted—and her eyes are still pleading with me. The tension finally begins to ease from between my shoulders. It's time for an olive branch.

"You didn't get naked."

"What?"

"Your dress was still on, so _technically_ you weren't naked."

She rolls her eyes, but gladly reaches for the white flag I'm offering. "Semantics," she states with a wry smile.

"Of course, we can rectify that oversight, if you'd like…"

I raise my eyebrows in question and nod my head toward the door of my apartment, which causes her to laugh. It's the sweetest sound I've heard in quite some time, and I revel in the way the sound travels through my body to settle in the pit of my stomach. When I reach out to link our fingers, the now-familiar jolt of electricity pulses between us, and that hint of anticipation explodes into full-blown desire. She must feel it as well; her breath hitches as she stares at me.

"I'm sorry I ran out."

I tug her hand gently, urging her closer. "I'm sorry I got upset and took it out on you. I shouldn't have said that earlier. I was a real jerk."

"This is all just so surreal…"

"I know," I admit softly. "I never imagined I'd run into the girl of my dreams on Valentine's Day."

"And I did fall for you pretty quickly," she reminds me with a smile.

"Yes you did," I reply with a laugh. "And that reminds me of something."

"What?"

"Aren't you tired, Bella?" I ask with a knowing smirk.

Her brow quirks. "Should I be?"

I nod, my smile widening. "You've been running through my mind all day…"

She snorts. "Really, Edward? You couldn't come up with a better one than that? Honestly, I'm a bit disappointed," she tsks. "That one is so cliché."

"Sorry," I state in a tone that lets her know that I'm most definitely not sorry. "But you have been, you know. Running through my mind all day. I've thought of nothing else. Just you."

She takes the final step and wraps her arms around my waist. "Well in that case… I must be pretty freaking exhausted."

My arms tighten around her. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Kiss it and make it better?"

Leaning down, I capture her lips with my own. She whimpers just a little and sighs when my tongue strokes leisurely. I lift my head, bemused to find her head tilted and eyes closed dreamily.

"Better?" I ask.

Her eyes twinkle when she finally opens them. "Well… that was nice, Edward. But it wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well… if I've been running around all day, it's likely my lower half that needs attention. I was thinking more along the lines of an Australian kiss."

"A what?" I ask, confused.

"I can't believe you don't know this one," she says with a laugh. Then she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Well, it's like a French kiss, but, you know… down under."

I bust out laughing. "You really are a girl after my own heart."

She smiles.

"Tell you what, Angel," I add with a smirk. "I'll even do you one better."

"How so?" she asks.

"After I take you down under, I'll help you find your way back to Heaven."

"I'm counting on it."

She rises on tiptoes to kiss me once more, then grabs my hand and leads me down the hall to my bedroom. We spent the rest of the afternoon acting out each and every cliché that I have tossed her way over the years.

It's a funny thing… Even though I promised her Heaven, I'm the one who sees the stars.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _The End_

: )

Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoyed this fun, fluffy story. It really was a lot of fun to write. Thank you so much for reading!

KL


End file.
